


Christmas Call - Day 17

by mycitruspocket



Series: My-Citrus-Pocket’s Advent Calendar 14/15 [16]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Advent Calendar Drabble, Caring Sherlock, Gen, Holmes Brothers, Post-Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:45:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5447021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mycitruspocket/pseuds/mycitruspocket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Mycroft enjoyed the peace and quiet of his house, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room—until his phone rang. He was honestly surprised that the display told him his brother was calling."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Call - Day 17

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally posting my last year's Fic Advent Calendar here, all cleaned up and betaed now, thanks to my lovely friend Erasmus_Jones. Originally posted [here on my blog](http://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/post/106143511528/my-fic-advent-calendar-2014-masterpost).
> 
> Thank you lothiriel84 for this lovely prompt.

Mycroft sat alone in front of the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Coming home after working in the office for more than fifteen hours straight he needed a few moments to calm down before finally getting some much needed rest.

The plan had been spending the holidays with his parents and Sherlock—again—since last year’s Christmas dinner hadn’t turned out quite as they had imagined with Sherlock drugging them all and then shooting someone in the head. Mycroft had been almost glad that a matter of national importance came up because he has never been very fond of the whole concept of Christmas, not even as a child. For him it was simply a Christian holiday, and as a non-Christian it was of no importance to him. In his opinion one shouldn’t need the excuse of a religious holiday to get the family together, but he was also aware that neither he or Sherlock visited their parents very often during the remainder of the year. That was why he had agreed, and because his mother had sounded so hopeful that everything would be wonderful this year, that she would search everyone for guns and drugs before entering the house. But it was too late to drive up there now anyway.

Mycroft enjoyed the peace and quiet of his house, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room—until his phone rang. He was honestly surprised that the display told him his brother was calling.

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“Is it done?”

“What is?”

“Whatever it was that you had to do that was more important than being here with us.”

“It is, but honestly, Sherlock, since when do you attach great importance to a harmonic family Christmas?”

“I don’t. It’s just that it’s, well, without you… Let’s just say I already thought about breaking into Mr. Davison’s hunting lodge so everything would stop being so disgustingly boring.”

“Oh for God’s sake Sherlock, don’t! You are exaggerating. Surely it can’t be that bad, can it?”

“But it really can, Mycroft! I’d like to see you here alone with them, being fussed over the whole day. I had to look at old childhood pictures with them, can you imagine the agony?”

“Oh dear! I’m very sorry, brother mine, but there is nothing I can do about that now.”

“You can still come over.”

“Don’t be childish, Sherlock. I’ve just been preventing a crisis while you had nothing else to do but eat and smile and look at old photo albums.”

“I don’t see any difference, both sounds terribly stressful to me. If you take the helicopter, you can be here for breakfast.”

“Sherlock!”

There was a pause, and Mycroft simply waited.

“Please, Mycroft.”

Mycroft took a deep breath, it was very difficult to deny his little brother anything when he sounded so desperate. Closing his eyes he saw a little ten year old Sherlock standing before him, looking up at his big brother with pleading eyes. Before he could answer, Sherlock spoke again, very quietly.

“I have been looking forward to this, believe me or not. Just the four of us, that sounded nice for some reason, sounded comfortable, quiet and less lonely. I can see you sitting in front of your fire, only a whiskey for company. There is no music because you’ve been working in a hectic office for hours and you need the silence to come down from the adrenalin and caffeine high. You know how silent it is here in the winter, tonight there is even a fine layer of snow on the ground, you’d like how it absorbs the sound.”

“Fine,” Mycroft sighed heavily. “I’ll be there in two hours. But please, prepare my room if it’s not too much trouble. I need at least a few hours of sleep or you will be in even more agony.”

“I took care of that already, I knew I’d win this.”

“Oh Sherlock, you are…”

“You can tell Mummy later what exactly I am for persuading you to come here, she’ll be delighted. You know how she gets when you praise me. See you in two hours, brother dear.”

Sherlock ended the call before his brother could say anything else and Mycroft found himself smiling at his phone. _Comfortable, quiet and less lonely_. Yes, that sounded very nice indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt by lothiriel84: Oooh, may I ask for a ficlet where Sherlock’s caring for his big brother is showing?


End file.
